


Something Fishy

by Ann7121



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 17:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann7121/pseuds/Ann7121
Summary: Avon has to judge a cat show..





	Something Fishy

Avalon had insisted that he make an appearance at the Centenary Supreme Intergalactic Cat Show - something to do with improving his image. 

"People are less likely to think of you as a murderer if they see you with cats, " she'd remarked briskly and her directness had reminded him of Jenna. 

" I'm not a murderer, " he'd replied, as evenly as possible. "If you pretend to be a Bounty Hunter, no matter how good your reasons, you run the risk of being shot by someone with a bounty on their head!"

"I know," she soothed, " But three times Avon? And don't you think you owe the revolution something for gunning down its leader?"

"Some leader, " he'd wanted to retort, but didn't because he did feel bad about the shooting. "I don't know anything about cats, Avalon. How am I supposed to judge them? Can't you send Vila?" 

He was appalled at the pleading note that coloured his usually authoritarian tones - a measure of how far his star had fallen since Gauda Prime.

"Cat allergy," she told him, tersely. 

And that was that. 

Cats. Big cats, small cats, fluffy cats, smooth cats, some without hair looking as if they'd been skinned. He was scratched, licked, covered in hairs. One even urinated on him nervously. Throughout the ordeal he smiled charmingly at the vis recorders, glad that he'd chosen a grey ensemble rather than his usual black which didn't show up the hairs so much and which he could happily consign to the recycler once the ordeal was over. They were groomed to perfection, the cats that were brought by their doting owners (men as well as women he noticed) coats shining, noses bright, tongue and teeth immaculate. Prime specimens, except for the brown bruiser of a Tom that jumped suddenly onto the judging table, refusing to be dislodged and miaowed loudly until he picked it up. It's ear was torn, its eye scarred and no one seemed to know who it belonged to but the damned thing refused to leave him, even after the judging was finished, and it leapt into the teleport beam just as he requested Orac for pickup.

On the journey back, the cat hoisted itself onto his lap, yawning insolently when he tried to move it, its claws firmly digging into his trousers and he winced at the fishy smell of its breath. Sardines. Blake's favourite lunch time snack.

Eventually, as he'd always done with Blake, he gave in to its importuning. He sat quietly stroking it all the way to Albian. Just one more responsibility he hadn't chosen but seemed, these days, unable to turn his back on.


End file.
